


Inn-Sewer-Ants

by RandomTexanReader



Category: Discworld - Terry Pratchett
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-22
Updated: 2020-09-22
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:40:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26590795
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RandomTexanReader/pseuds/RandomTexanReader
Summary: If I had my druthers, the first act of a pilot for a TV adaptation of Sir Terry Pratchett's Night Watch stories.- I would not start with "Guards! Guards!" Everyone expects you to start with "Guards! Guards!" I would start with "The Colour of Magic."- I would have each episode written in a half-hour sitcom format.- Death would be the narrator. It would not be emphasized that Death is the narrator. There is a narrator, and then when Death shows up, he speaks in the same voice.- Emphasis on practical effects over CGI mostly because (and this is extremely important), I want the trolls to look like the Rock Biters from "The NeverEnding Story" (1984).
Kudos: 7





	Inn-Sewer-Ants

FADE IN:   
EXT. - LATE AFTERNOON  
Ankh-Morpork seen from a distance, an over-built, over-crowded eyesore of a just barely pre-industrial city that looks like 1900s New York and 1800s London are working very hard to occupy the same space at the same time. 

  
DEATH (V.O.)  
Ankh-Morpork, established year one of the Ankh-Morporkian calendar.

  
Shots of over-crowded and over-busy streets, people etc. buying and selling and stealing from each other indiscriminately. 

DEATH (V.O.) (CONT'D)  
Populated by approximately a hundred thousand souls-–humans, dwarves, trolls, et alia--and ten times that number of inhabitants. Also Nobby Nobs.

Bustling docks, with evidence of very lax standards and very exuberant commerce.

DEATH (V.O.) (CONT'D)  
Chief exports, manufactured goods, smog, and trouble.

Twoflower, in unmistakable 'tourist' regalia, albeit still in keeping with the vaguely late renaissance setting, disembarks cheerfully, two crewmen behind him carrying a large chest.

DEATH (V.O.) (CONT'D)  
Chief imports, raw goods, wormy cabbages, and trouble.

Twoflower watches the crewmen put the chest down and takes out a large gold coin for each.

Blind Hugh-–with a sign around his neck reading "Blynd"-–sees this exchange and takes a professional interest. Picking up a begging cup, he takes a beat to assume his "Blind" manner and feels his way towards Twoflower.

  
Seeing Blind Hugh, Twoflower starts fumbling in his money pouch. Blind Hugh, clearly and pathetically completely blind, begins his script:

  
BLIND HUGH:  
Good day to thee, sire-

  
Twoflower grabs Blind Hugh by the arm. This is not what Blind Hugh expected and he tries to run, but Two-flower has a firm grip. He takes out a small black book.

TWOFLOWER:  
Hallo!

BLIND HUGH:  
...hallo yourself.

TWOFLOWER:  
Hallo!

Letting go of Blind Hugh's arm, he pulls out a large gold coin. Blind Hugh is intrigued. Two-flower refers to his book.

TWO-FLOWER:  
I wish to be (page turn) directed to, led to, brought to, shown to (page turn) a hotel, place of repose, tavern, lodging house, inn, hospice, caravanserai.

BLIND HUGH:  
What, all of them?

Two-flower blinks at him affably. Blind Hugh's attention is fixed on the gold coin.

BLIND HUGH: (CONT'D)  
I know a tavern. Would that work?

TWOFLOWER:  
Tavern, lodging house, inn-

BLIND HUGH:  
Yes yes, alright. Come on then.

Picking up a bundle, he begins to walk off, and, still smiling, Twoflower follows him. A beat later, the trunk follows them both.

DEATH (V.O.)  
This visitor, while to complete and utter chaos as a wet, copper-clad atheist on a roof top is to the gods, is not our main character. Our story, in fact, is about the Night Watch of Ankh-Morpork, motto "Fabricati Diem, Puncti Agunt Celeriter". 

CUT TO:  
INT. TREACLE MINE ROAD WATCH HOUSE  
Sam Vimes is sleeping at a cluttered desk, snoring fitfully, an empty bottle in his hand. 

DEATH (V.O.) (CONT'D)  
Founded in year 1561 of the Ankh-Morporkian calendar by King Veltrick the First, who was assassinated four days later by King Veltrick the Second. Possibly for other reasons.

A beat as Sam Vimes continues to sleep.

DEATH (V.O.) (CONT'D)  
We'll come back to them, shall we?

CUT TO:  
INT. THE BROKEN DRUM - SUNSET  
Blind Hugh comes in, Twoflower following him, the luggage following them both. Everybody in the tavern looks at the visitor and his luggage, and then suspiciously at their drinks.

  
Broadman, the tavernkeeper, stops scolding a small troll to gawk.

BROADMAN:  
What in hell's that?

BLIND HUGH:  
Don't talk about it. 

Twoflower approaches Broadman, flipping through his book.

TWOFLOWER:  
I wish for an accommodation, a room, lodgings, the lodging house, full board, are your rooms clean, a room with a view, what is your rate for one night?

Broadman looks at Twoflower, then at Blind Hugh.

BLIND HUGH:  
He's got money.

BROADMAN:  
Then tell him two-–three copper pieces. And that (pointing to the luggage) has to go to in the stable.

Blind Hugh holds up three fingers. Twoflower smiles in comprehension and carefully takes out three large gold pieces, which he lays in Broadman's hand.

  
Broadman stares at the coins, then at Twoflower, then at Blind Hugh. He swallows, then says:

BROADMAN:  
Yes. Uh. And then there's meals, of course. Uh. Food. You eat? Food?

He makes eating motions, and Twoflower turns to Blind Hugh who points to the book.

BLIND HUGH:  
I'd have a look in your little book then. Food.

Twoflower runs his finger down the pages.

TWOFLOWER:  
Fut. Fud. Food. Yes! Cutlet, hash chop, stew, ragout, fricassee, mince, collops, souffle, dumpling, blancmange, sorbet, gruel, sausage, not to have a sausage, beans, without a hear, kickshaws, jelly, jam, giblets.

  
He beams at Broadman.

BROADMAN:  
(weakly)  
What, all of that?

BLIND HUGH:  
That's just how he talks.

Broadman nods, smiling back at Twoflower. A scrawny wizard, Rincewind, slinks up to the bar.

RINCEWIND:  
May I be of assistance?

BROADMAN:  
(still smiling, through gritted teeth)  
Shove off, Rincewind.

RINCEWIND:  
I only thought...

He stops, fascinated by the luggage, which is patently the reason he's come to 'assist'

RINCEWIND: (CONT'D)  
...it.... might be useful to address this gentleman in his own language.

  
BROADMAN:  
He's doing fine on his own. 

  
Rincewind ignores him and turns to Twoflower. 

  
DEATH: (V.O.)  
Rincewind tried a few words of Chimeran, his fluency in which he prided himself.

  
Twoflower smiles uncomprehendingly. 

  
DEATH: (V.O.) (CONT'D)  
He then tried High Borogravian, Vanglemesht, Sumtri, and Black Oroogu, the language with no nouns and only one adjective, which is obscene. Finally, he tried Trob.

  
Twoflower reacts with understanding, and the movement of his mouth no longer matches his dialogue.

  
TWOFLOWER: (DUB)  
At last! My good sir! This is a thing which may happen but once in the usable lifetime of a canoe hollowed diligently by axe and fire from the tallest diamondwood forests on the lower slopes of Mount Awayawa, home of the firegods, or so it is said!

Broadman looks at Rincewind, who swallows.

  
BROADMAN:  
What was all that?

  
TWOFLOWER: (DUB)  
What did the man who tends to the place of food and rest for certain fees say?

  
Rincewind looks back and forth between them, then at Blind Hugh, then back at his earlier seat, then at the door, at the luggage, back at Twoflower, and then finally back to Broadman. Weakly,

RINCEWIND:  
Broadman. Two mugs of your finest beer, please.

  
DEATH: (V.O.)  
While Rincewind occupies himself with trying to separate Twoflower from his gold and the sentient pearwood luggage, our heroes begin to rise from blissful slumbers to another night of stern duty.

  
CUT TO:  
INT. TREACLE MINE ROAD WATCH HOUSE - EVENING  
Vimes snorts awake and sits up, a piece of paper stuck to his face. 

  
DEATH: (V.O.) (CONT'D)  
This is Captain Samuel "Sam" Vimes.

  
Vimes inspects the bottle in his hand, finds it empty, and tosses it into an overflowing can of similar bottles. 

  
DEATH: (V.O.) (CONT'D)  
He is a drunkard. That is to say, an alcoholic without money or status.

  
INT. SGT COLON'S HOUSE - CONTINUOUS  
Fred Colon comes downstairs in full guard outfit, yawning.

  
DEATH: (V.O.)  
This is Sergeant Frederick "Fred" Colon. 

  
Colon thoughtfully chews a dinner left out for him, and writes something on a piece of paper, lips moving as he spells, before heading out the door.

  
DEATH: (V.O.) (CONT'D)  
He has successfully upheld a marriage for years on the basis that he works during the night and the Mrs. Colon works during the day. They keep the passion alive with notes left to each other, and have four children-–presumably as the result of very persuasive writing.

  
EXT. TREACLE MINE ROAD - CONTINUOUS  
Herbert Gaskin is jogging up the street.

  
DEATH: (V.O.)  
This is Lance-Corporal Herbert "Leggy" Gaskin. He has a bad habit of running after criminals, almost as if he wanted to catch them.

  
EXT. TREACLE MINE ROAD WATCH HOUSE - CONTINUOUS  
Nobby ambles up the steps, whistling tunelessly as he rolls a cigarette.

  
DEATH: (V.O.)  
This is Corporal Cecil Wormsborough St. John "Nobby" Nobbs. After careful investigation and sworn testimony from his mother and the midwife present, it has been decided that the balance of probability is that he is a human being.

  
Nobby hocks a loogie into his cigarette. 

  
DEATH: (V.O.) (CONT'D)  
Most likely.

  
INT. TREACLE MINE ROAD WATCH HOUSE - CONTINUOUS  
A handful of men jostle and talk to each other quietly as they line up. They are wearing the standard guard uniform we have seen the others in, but with vaguely Star Trek (TOS) red shirts over the top of their breastplates.

  
DEATH: (V.O.)  
These are the other members of the Night Watch at the beginning of this story. It's better you don't get too attached.

  
A beat.

  
DEATH: (V.O.) (CONT'D)  
Aren't those shirts a lovely shade of red.

  
Vimes comes stumbling downstairs to 'inspect' the 'troops,' who stand in a rough mockery of a line. 

  
VIMES:  
Right. You lot got your bells?

  
General jingling as the bells are taken out. Vimes attempts to straighten up, but only manages to stand at a different angle. He raises his voice, without enthusiasm.

  
VIMES: (CONT'D)  
Who are we?

  
The answer matches his volume and lack of excitement.

  
ALL:  
The Night Watch.

  
VIMES:  
What do we do?

  
They jangle their bells dispiritedly as they respond.

  
ALL:  
Eight'o'clock and all's well.

  
VIMES:  
And what do we do if it's not?

  
ALL:  
We bloody well find another street.

  
VIMES:  
Right.

  
He pulls out a partially filled bottle of alcohol.

  
VIMES: (CONT'D)  
Let's get started then.

  
He drains the bottle and tosses it. The watch shuffles out the door, Vimes in the rear.

  
DEATH: (V.O.)  
By the next morning one of these men will have had an unfortunate encounter with a troll splatter - like a bouncer, but trolls use a bit more force - another will have been eaten by a temperamental piece of luggage, and all of the others will have had their pictures painted by a demon in a magic box, carried by a man who is told what to say by a small black book. Some of them will also end up victims of insurance. But we'll get to that.

  
_**End of Act One** _


End file.
